Sunday Thought: We were always led to believe in many differences between men & women, though I think we're all a mixture of both. Maybe we are taught we are strictly only one or the other in order to believe in the lifelong pursuit of finding the other half that's supposed to makes us whole. If we were taught that we are whole, from the start, and instead only grow and develop further from our wholeness, our focus would shift to our own potential as a human and not as a partner. So, naturally, since that isn't the case, people will cling to familiar pursuits in order to find success through an avenue paved for them as opposed to paving their own. And I think that's okay.
I’m giving away a mini-squishable of your choice from Squishable.com! I’m a huge fucking loser and I want to win this… maid café idol contest… so I’m doing a give-away every week until the 20th to promote it. You don’t have to add the maid café I belong to on Facebook (unless you want to). There are a few rules.
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
Aaron Freeman “You Want A Physicist To Speak at your Funeral (via enflurane)
“How can we honor the memory of a man like Leonard Hanlon? Well, he was governed by the laws of physics, as are all living things. It is a scientific fact that hearts and clocks slow down as they approach the speed of light, the point at which matter is converted into energy.
“Doctor Hanlon’s heart approached that speed on Friday evening, at 7:57, according to the coroner, converting his matter into energy, into pure white light. Though he is no longer with us, he is all around us.”
“We were discussing homosexuality because of an allusion to it in the book we were reading, and several boys made comments such as, “That’s disgusting.” We got into the debate and eventually a boy admitted that he was terrified/disgusted when he was once sharing a taxi and the other male passenger made a pass at him.The lightbulb went off. “Oh,” I said. “I get it. See, you are afraid, because for the first time in your life you have found yourself a victim of unwanted sexual advances by someone who has the physical ability to use force against you.” The boy nodded and shuddered visibly.“But,” I continued. “As a woman, you learn to live with that from the time you are fourteen, and it never stops. We live with that fear every day of our lives. Every man walking through the parking garage the same time you are is either just a harmless stranger or a potential rapist. Every time.”The girls in the room nodded, agreeing. The boys seemed genuinely shocked. “So think about that the next time you hit on a girl. Maybe, like you in the taxi, she doesn’t actually want you to.”—
“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics. You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded. Because the elements, the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars. And the only way they could get into your body is if the stars were kind enough to explode. So forget Jesus. The stars died so you could be here today.”—Lawrence Krauss (via therealjayz, neightkelly) (via brentpafford) (via maxmaxmaaaax)